Page 81 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business

“Well, yes…several times. See, I was here about two weeks ago for like…two weeks. Wherever she was, I was. And then I had an emergency for my daughter…” The more Harper spoke the more ridiculous it sounded and the more this dude didn’t give a fuck about his lovers’ quarrel with Jordan.

Harper looked and sounded exactly like what he was being taken for—a stalker. Ain’t this some shit?

“Sir, I think it would be best if you move along. And do not return unless you are with the resident of this house and invited in.”

“Her name is Jordan. Jordan Armstrong? Do you know her? We went to undergrad together. Brown skin, beautiful face, long hair, about this tall, great smile, drives a blue BMW convertible…” As he kept speaking and looked at this man’s inscrutable face the deeper in a hole he felt.

Stalker, his mind accused. This was a bad look.

“You know what? I’m gonna go. If you see her around can you tell her Harper is looking for—that Harper Stewart—the writer—came by…

I won the Pulitzer..last year..? Anyway, I’m looking for her…

just trying to reconnect…” Harper was backing up to his car as he was speaking, knowing this was a losing battle.

“You have a good night, sir,” the security guard said and he waited until Harper got in his car and drove off.

“Where is she, Shelby?!” Harper was definitely a bit overzealous speaking into his car system as he drove the I-10 east back to his hotel in Santa Monica, having narrowly avoided arrest, or worse.

“Ummmm excuse me? You need to take it down a notch, Langston Snooze.” Shelby was going full housewife and undergrad diva on him. How she became the guardian of all things Jordan Armstrong he would never know. “What’s going on?” Shelby continued.

“You know damn well what’s going on. Jordan blocked me, changed her number, I’m out in LA looking for her like a damn stalker because she won’t call me back.”

“So why are you calling me?” Shelby asked, dripping with superior attitude.

“Because you know where she is. You could at least call her for—”

“I don’t know where she is. And I spoke to her about a week or so ago, but she’s been radio silent since,” Shelby said conclusively. “And plus, even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you hurt her. And that’s my girl.”

“Your girl?! Bullshit. She’s my girl. You know it and she knows it. And furthermore—”

“I’m hanging up. Goodbye…”

“Shelby, don’t you—” Harper looked at his phone display. Yup, she did hang up. “Fuck!” Harper hit the redial button. Shelby picked up immediately.

“You hurt her, Harper. Badly,” Shelby began.

“I’ve never heard her like that. Ever. So she’s protecting herself.

From all of us.” Harper took in what Shelby was saying.

He knew that Jordan was hurt. He’d never before seen her lash out like she had when he left.

He’d experienced her ferocity, her anger firsthand and it had been scary.

If he was responsible for that, then he was also responsible for bringing back the woman he loved.

“Look, Shelby, I know I fucked up—”

“You did,” Shelby added for good measure.

Harper hated having to explain himself through Shelby to get to Jordan, but he took a deep breath, adjusted his tone, and soldiered through.

“Shelby, I know you know how to get in touch with her,” Harper began.

“And I know you’re just protecting her. Please, just tell her I’m in LA and I want to see her.

I came back like I said I would. And I’m sorry.

Please let her know I want to protect her.

I want to be her safe space. Tell her…” Harper got choked up.

“Tell her I love her.” There was silence on the other end.

Did Shelby hang up again? “Shelby…?” More silence. “Aww shit, come on. Hello? Shit.”

Then, “Harper,” Shelby said with a softening tone.

“Yeah, Shelby?”

“I can’t get ahold of her. I’m hoping she checks in soon.

If she does, I’ll relay the message, okay?

” Harper detected a breakthrough of some sort, or at least he hoped for one.

Shelby, as tough as she could be, was a romantic at heart.

If she believed in Jordan and Harper getting together she’d do what she could.

“Thank you.”

As he pulled into the circular driveway at Shutters, Harper reflected on achieving real clarity on the story of Jackson and Kendall.

What he and Jordan shared was magic on the page and demonstrated to him how powerful their connection was (andhopefully still was).

He could not force a relationship between them, but he wanted her.

Did she still feel the same? Harper had to see.

As he’d told Lance, he was trying to be a better man.

He also told Mia he had to get some acceptance of who he is. And love himself. Could he do both?

As he crossed the lobby to the elevator he caught a glimpse of the classy bar.

He’d be back. He had a whole “Where is Jordan?” itinerary planned.

Tonight, he’d come back down and order a sidecar at the hotel bar.

Tomorrow he’d head to Urth to have a pistachio latte, he’d take a hike up Solstice Canyon, he’d stop at 1212 for a late lunch all in hopes of seeing Jordan.

He would go to Nobu tomorrow night and check to see if the bartender had seen her.

She had to be somewhere. He was going to keep searching.

But for now, he had to unwrap a new gift he got for himself.

When he entered his junior suite, Harper played Sade’s Love Deluxe on his phone. He stepped into his en suite bathroom and turned on the faucet on the double vanity, unbuttoned the sleeves on his shirt, and rolled up the cuff on his right forearm that was wrapped in plastic.

He dipped his fingertips into the flow of running water, then adjusted the handle to a lukewarm temperature.

He carefully peeled back the plastic to reveal his first ever tattoo.

Solomon. Harper smiled at it, admiring its craftsmanship.

It really did turn out great. Harper chose the same font that they had used in Solomon’s nursery.

Except this one had an angel’s halo over the first O.

It was in black ink but still raw. He had gotten it at a parlor close to Malik Books in Culver City.

Harper took care to wash it, dab it dry with paper towels, and moisturize it gingerly with shea butter.

He gently massaged Solomon with love, care, and tenderness while singing the chorus to the first track. No ordinary love indeed.

Suddenly, Sade was interrupted by an incoming phone call. Was it her? Harper raced to it. No, it was Quentin.

“Yo, Q, what’s up?” Harper asked.

“What you doing, joe?”

“I’m sure you already know, seeing as how you and your wife don’t keep no secrets from one another,” Harper responded.

“Yeah, she told me,” Quentin said with exasperation. “So what—you just hoping to run into her somewhere out there?”

“I told her I’d come back. I’m staying until we reconnect. I have to try,Q.”

“Harp, this is stupid. You giving real stalker vibes right now. ’Bout to make yourself a news headline. She’ll come around,” Quentin declared.

“What if she doesn’t? What if I blew it, Q?” Harper’s voice broke just a bit.

“Then you blew it,” Quentin said bluntly.

“Move the fuck on. I know that ain’t what you wanna hear, but fuck it.

” Quentin could be eloquent. Just not all the time.

“Listen, man, come on back to New York. You already missed the last poker night going to Ghana on some bullshit.” Harper didn’t like Quentin’s characterization but there was no sense debating him.

“We want you back home, joe. Touch base. Regroup. We’ll figure it out together. ”

“Q, do you know where she is, man?” Harper had to ask. He leaned forward for good news.

Quentin answered without hesitation.

“Poker night. Wednesday. My house. Don’t flake.”